


It's Called a Frenulum

by eternalsojourn



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Dirty Talk, Laughter, M/M, blowjob, failed role play, role play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 02:04:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1964793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternalsojourn/pseuds/eternalsojourn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur likes to talk during sex. It doesn't always land the way he means it to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Called a Frenulum

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dremiel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dremiel/gifts).



> Written for a [Tumblr](http://eternalsojourn.tumblr.com/post/91911325620/arthur-eames-pornlet-for-under-the-moonlight-tower) prompt:
> 
> under-the-moonlight-tower prompted - Inception. Arthur/Eames. Porn is appreciated but anything is fine. Prompt: Laughter.

Contrary to popular belief, Eames isn’t the talker in bed. That title belongs to Arthur. Arthur likes to communicate, and he hates ambiguity. Plus, he likes the way Eames gets steadily more turned on the more Arthur comments on proceedings, using vulgar or rude language. 

Eames gives his share, of course. Enough to keep Arthur going. But mostly it’s Arthur murmuring about how he loves to feel Eames’s cock in him (while sliding a finger either side of Eames’s entry, the visual of which also works quite well for Eames’s arousal). Or gritting out in between hard grunts that Eames should fuck him harder, make him feel it, Arthur wants to sit at work and know it. Or telling Eames how pretty his lips are around Arthur’s dick, how Arthur sometimes thinks about it when Eames is talking, how he could just unzip and Eames would drop to his knees and open for him because Eames loves it, doesn’t he, loves sucking Arthur’s cock and the taste of Arthur’s come.

So yeah, all of that. Eames loves it. The only problem is, sometimes Arthur talks when he could be otherwise occupied.

It’s after hours in an office building they’ve broken into to scope out the place for an extraction site. Technically they don’t both need to go, but Arthur suggests it and Eames figures, what the hell, low security, boring job. So they’ve sketched out the layout, established what minimal security they have to work around, and have cracked the target’s computer just for the hell of it when Arthur takes a last glance down the hallway and comes back in, wedging the door ajar behind him.

Eames smirks, wise to Arthur’s predilection for sex in various places. The main risk being Arthur’s inability to stay quiet, Eames figures they’re fine as the cleaning crew has been and gone. 

Arthur approaches calmly but his kiss is nothing of the sort. It’s deep and hungry he presses Eames’s bum against the desk hard enough to dent his skin. His nimble fingers undo belt and zip in short order and lift Eames’s cock out without bothering to remove clothing further. 

“You look good like this,” Arthur says between kisses and appreciative glances downwards. “Rude. Cock out, hard already, haven’t even unbuttoned your shirt.”

“I figured you were making the call on clothing.”

Arthur smiles and chooses to ignore the comment. “Bet you want to fuck my mouth. Huh? In here you could be the boss. I could be your secretary.”

Eames’s nostrils flare. This is new. Interesting.

“That what you want, Arthur? A boss?” At Arthur’s smirk, Eames puts on the expected persona. “Rough meetings all day, sweetheart. I could use some stress relief.”

Arthur smiles once, then puts on a coy look. “Of course, sir. You’re under a lot of pressure. I imagine some kind of release is in order.” Arthur kneels smoothly and runs a feather-light lick over Eames’s still-sheathed cock-head. “Like this?” he asks, looking up innocently.

Eames widens his stance slightly and places a hand on the back of Arthur’s head. “Mmhmm. Just like that.”

Arthur encloses Eames in his lips then, but in a way he knows is maddeningly light, a tease. “Uncircumcised,” he says, pulling off. “I like them uncircumcised. Sir.” Arthur’s tongue forms a pink point and presses into the foreskin where a bead of precome has formed. “So much more fun.” He uses his hand to pull the skin back a little, then pulls it forward once more, bunching the skin and working his tongue under it to swirl around the smooth glans. “But my favourite,” he says, then envelopes the whole thing and sinks onto it, once. He pulls off while pulling the foreskin back, revealing Eames’s reddened cockhead fully. “Is this bit.” He licks the underside. “The… the… shit.”

Eames snorts.

“Is it called the frenulum?” Arthur suddenly looks serious, and not at all the attentive secretary, brow furrowed in thoroughly-Arthur fashion.

Eames laughs fully, body shaking. His grip on Arthur’s head comes off and he suddenly feels ridiculous standing with his cock out in someone’s boring office at 8:00 pm on a Wednesday. “Is this an anatomy lesson or a blowjob?”

Arthur grins, teeth white in the dim office. “Sorry. Broke character. Um.” He looks back at softening the cock still in his hand. He frowns at it. “Frenulum. It is called a frenulum. Don’t know why I blanked on that one.”

Eames laughs harder this time. He extracts himself from Arthur’s grasp and tucks himself away. Arthur sighs, then laughs at himself. “Shit. Well. Maybe next time.”

Later, back at the hotel room they’re sharing, Arthur sticks with more familiar territory: Eames is bent over him, Arthur’s legs wrapped around and hooked at the ankle behind Eames’s back. “Pull out and put it back in,” he says. “Fuck, you make me feel so full,” he says. “Hold my hands down,” he orders when they’re starting to slide, slick with sweat and Eames is shoving in with intent. Eames kisses him them, sloppy and a little rough from his thrusts, but it finally stops Arthur’s mouth and that’s all Arthur ever waits for -- with the full weight of Eames on him, with his hands held still, with his cock rubbing tight against both their bellies, Arthur comes. Eames, with a few extra hard shoves, comes shortly afterwards, and they breathe together for long moments.

“Don’t stop talking,” Eames says.

“What, now?”

“No, I mean in general. Maybe sometimes it doesn’t work, but I’d hate for you to stop.” Eames says it into the space beside Arthur’s neck, hiding as usual when he says something sincere.

Arthur laughs, a gentle thing devoid of mockery. “Don’t worry, Eames. I hadn’t planned on it.”

**End**


End file.
